Le Tango de Jennifer Jareau
by Lilium Dragon Fang
Summary: emily thinkin bout jj and whats-his-name. *mention of frickin het pairing! arghhh!* eventually JEm!


Title: Le Tango De Jennifer Jareau…

Author: theoriginalsappho™

Pairing/s: JJ/Emily (yeah, in Emily's head!)

JJ/what-the-hell-ever-his-name-is

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I wish I did, but somebody beat me to it…

Rating: T, maybe?

A/N: just a lil drabble in Emily's POV. Something bout frickin JJ picking whats-his-name over the hotness that is Emily Prentiss. If the muses in my head are going in the right direction, this could go on… ahihihi…

I see you pace around your office excitedly, holding your cell phone to your ear. It's probably him. That fucking whats-his-name.

That's probably what you'll be doing tonight. I cringe at my own thoughts. Does he make you cry out in ecstasy? Does he revel at the way you sound in euphoria? Does he hold you afterwards? Or is he that type who just rolls over and grins at the ceiling for a few minutes, then falls asleep seconds later, not even bothering to check how the hell the woman beside him is doing?

You sit on your comfy leather couch and I tilt my head slightly, as if straining to hear your conversation. I bet he's asking you what you're wearing. And he's telling you how he wants to deliberately peel them off of you. That's what I'd be whispering in your ear. How I wish I was on the other side of that line. I try to pull my gaze away from you, disdainfully failing. No. not with that stupid song stuck in my head. The familiar melody has taken up residence in my skull. The lyrics resonating with such emphasis that I feel it gnawing a hole in my chest.

'_Get out of there, Ewan McGregor!'_

The song profusely canopies my thoughts. _'Damn Moulin rouge!'_

Not that JJ's a slut. It's just…

**His eyes upon you face**

**His hand upon your hand**

_Enough._

I can't.

This opens a floodgate of mental images. You and him.

Your smile. You seem quite happy. Very.

With him.

With his arms around you.

**His lips caress your skin  
IT'S MORE THAN I CAN STAND!**

I force the pictures away and do what I do best. Compartmentalize.

Burn those pictures inside the little black box in my brain. Punch in the numbers in the vault and forget the code!

**Why does my heart cry?**

**Feelings I can't fight!**

I absorb the beautiful yet sorrowful tone of its violin solo. Fill-ins, adlibs and all, depicting all the hurt I feel just from knowing that you and he are together. It burns my heart to know that you're coming home to him tonight, instead of coming home with me.

**You're free to leave me but  
Just don't deceive me!**

The tragic tune reverberates, almost like its pleading, crying. The shrill aria developing into a powerful crescendo, blasting into a satisfying cadence, drowning in its own grandiosity.

At that point, I couldn't take it anymore. The emotions swell and I feel my eyes brimming with tears, the warm liquid threatening to spill out. I hastily get up and walk briskly to the nearest enclosed, isolated space I could find which turns out to be a poorly-lit storage room. Typical.

I yank the door open, walk in and close it as gently as I possibly could. I lean against the metal rack behind me, the chill it emits stinging my back thru my clothes. Something wet rolls against my cheek and it takes me a while to realize that they're tears. My tears. Mine.

'_Fuck.'_ I curse._ 'I am a goddamn FBI agent! I'm not allowed to frickin cry!'_

The more I try to stop, the more they pour out. I slide down pathetically to sit on the floor.

'_Fuck.' _I repeat. _'This is not happening! I'm supposed to be.. Kicking criminal ass!! Not hyperventilating in this hellhole!'_ I bury my face in my shaking hands, allowing myself to let go for just a few minutes. Hopefully, no one has noticed I've gone MIA on them.

Wonder what my mother would say if she found me here. Like this. I can hear her cold voice ranting… _'Emily Elizabeth Mignonette Prentiss! What on earth are you doing!?'_

What about Hotch? What if he finds me? How unprofessional!

Or Morgan? I can't let him see me! He's going to think I'm a total crybaby and tease me about it, forever!

'Why couldn't I just have run to the restroom?...' I pause, 'No. what if she went in to take a piss or freshen up? She could have seen-'

Knock. Knock.

'_What the hell?!'_

Knock. Knock.

'_Who knocks in a storage room?'_

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The 3rd time, I almost felt like answering, _'Nobody's in here! Go away!'_

I sit in silence, waiting for the being on the other side of the door to leave. I see the knob twist a couple of times, the intruder unsuccessful because it's locked.

'_Unless, he has a key.'_

Knock. Knock. Knock.

'_Just leave already, Damn it!'_

The stillness in the room is sickening but the weeping violins still echo in my head. A lullaby humming me back to reality. I decide its time to regaining composure and return to the real world. I slowly stand, as quietly as I can, not quite sure if the trespasser is still there. Peering down, I effectively identify the shadows cast under the door. _'Great. Still there.'_

**Yo que te quiero tanto, que le voy a hacer? Me dejaste, me dejaste en un tango. El alma se me fue. Se me fue hasta la sombra. **I who loves you so much, what am I going to do? You left me, you left me in a tango. My soul left me. Even my shadow left me.

I wait some more, getting lost in the gloomy ballad. I swear, its gonna embed itself permanently in my psyche! Without my permission!

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"_Fuck." _ It came out as a frustrated whisper. I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth. _'shit. Shit. Shit.' _ He heard that. Im sure he did. _'ok. Ok. Calm down. Deep breathes, Prentiss, but quiet! Shhh.'_

"_**Emily?"**_

'Motherfucker!'

The violins suddenly screech. Like they go out of tune all at the same time. Like the bows scratch against the set of silver twines with too much pressure making them croak indistinctively, the sound they produce ever so revolting. _'_Like the strings are cleave one by one, snapping out of place, ruining the whole orchestration.

I gasp. _'oh my god.'_

"_**Emily? Open up."**_

'_oh my god_. I'd know that voice anywhere. I'd recognize it even if I was 6 feet buried underground!'

"_**Emily. I know you're in there."**_

'_oh my god.'_

Those 3 words seem to be the limit of my vocabulary at the moment. Until, something else rolls out of my lips in one hoarse whisper…

"_JJ"._


End file.
